Wrong Side of the Badge

Marshall Ginevan

Description

1980's - The Texas war on drugs.Drug dealers have taken control local Texas governments and are sending innocent police officers to prison.Eddie Donevan, former Air Force Fighter pilot and veteran of the drug wars in Southeast Asia, is trying to save his career in law enforcement.A tight-knit group of federal agents is formed to take down the corrupt local officials in Texas while battling cross-border raids by a former DEA agent. The lines are blurred as investigations attempt to determine which lawmen are onThe Wrong Side of the Badge

Informations

• Publié par: Book Venture Publishing LLC
• Date de parution: 30 septembre 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781640692695
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

The

Wrong Side

of the

Badge

Marshall Ginevan
Copyright © 2017 by Marshall Ginevan.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
This is a work of fiction. The characters in this novel are fictitious. Any characters resembling actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. The names – except for historical figures -, dialogue, incidents, and opinions expressed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination and creativity. They should not be considered real.
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Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Control Number 2017944475 ISBN-13: Softcover 978-1-64069-266-4 Hardcover 978-1-64069-267-1 Pdf 978-1-64069-268-8 ePub 978-1-64069-269-5 Kindle 978-1-64069-270-1
Rev. date: 06/16/2017
Acknowledgements
The Texas prison system and the Jester prison units provided the general background and many of the character types for this book. Armed cowboys really work prisoners in Texas prison fields! The author acknowledges the efforts of prison officials to censor descriptions of conditions that exist at Texas prison u nits.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to those law enforcement officers who not only battle the drug flow into this nation, but also wage war on the police officers and government officials who protect and share profits with drug organizations. They fight a secret war within our government from the national level to the local l evel.
And a special dedication goes to those officers who have been wrongly convicted of crimes against drug dealers – drug dealers who continue to attack our nation and poison our citizens with illegal drugs. These officers are really prisoners of war in the War on Drugs. They are labeled “criminals” and are cut off from their fellow officers. They are held in captivity with the very drug traffickers they have investigated and arrested. They are the abandoned and forgotten heroes in the War on D rugs.

Chapter One
Victoria Prison Unit
February 1984
An old van with a loose muffler and a door that rattled and shook pulled up to the back of the prison unit early in the morning. There was a light rain falling as the overweight guard stepped out of the red brick gate house and lazily greeted the two guards in the van. The gate house appeared to be new, the prisoner noted, as he looked through the barred van window. The van guards handed over two revolvers and a shotgun. The gate guard ambled back into the gate house, returned empty handed, and slowly pushed open the large gate.
“Ten-foot chain link topped with razor band,” the prisoner said to himself, carefully noting everyt hing.
The van pulled inside and stopped behind what appeared to be an old military warehouse. The building was wood frame painted white. He was told that this was the old Victorian Army Post, a World War II training base that was given to the State of Texas to use as a prison farm. They kept the best buildings and tore down most of the rest. The land was returned to farm use.
One of the guards opened the back door of the van. “Hold up, Sarge.” After he removed the leg irons, they walked up the stairs and into the back door of what appeared to be a loading dock. The guard then removed the handcuffs and the chain that wrapped his w aist.
“Was all this really necessary?” the prisoner a sked.
“Probably not,” the guard answered, chewing on a green cigar. “But the big bus full of life’s losers takes six hours to get here, is more like a cattle car, and if anyone recognized you you’d have the whole fuck’en bunch trying to kick the shit out o f ya.”
“Yea, you’re probably right,” he conc eded.
Another guard picked up the prisoner’s paperwork and looked it over. “Eddie Donevant. Police sergeant. Attempted murder. Who’d you try to kill?”
“No one. A dope dealer either lied or was mist aken.”
“Yea. Well, I can see why they’re keeping you separated from all the others. They don’t want you corrupted by all those who’re guilty of killing, robbing, and doping,” he sne ered.
Eddie glared at the guard but said not hing.
A gruff looking, overweight major walked in, looked over Eddie’s paperwork, and then looked him over. Eddie stood about five-foot-ten, carried about 175 pounds on a medium frame that was not athletic but was reasonably in shape. The major eyed his gold framed glasses. “You been in the mili tary?”
Eddie nodded. “Air F orce.”
“What rank did you hold?”
“I was a m ajor.”
“Then I shouldn’t have to tell you more than once that all my officers are addressed as ‘sir’ at all times and obeyed without ques tion.”
“Yes, sir.”
The major appeared to be satisfied with that response, so went back to looking over the card. “Thirty-five. Kinda young for a major. What’d you do in the Air F orce?”
“I was a fighter p ilot.”
“This says you were a cop.”
“That was my civilian job. I was a reserve off icer.”
“What kind of education you got?”
“I hold a J.D.”
“What’s that?”
Eddie smiled. “A law degree. I’m a licensed atto rney.”
“Well, you’re a farmer, now. You’ll be working in the fields picking vegeta bles.”
“I’m no farmer. I don’t know-----”
“I hate cops. I hate lawyers even more. But since this was an army base, you oughtta settle in real fine. We do everything in line and with permission. You won’t be in a dorm, either. I have a semi-private room for you with another military officer . I’m gonna be watching you. . .” He glanced at the card. “. . .Donevant. You cause me any problems here and you’ll be real s orry.”
He turned to the guard and said, “Get his ass down to Ten B lock.”
He lay on the bottom bunk in a hot and stuffy prison cell. His thoughts were occupied by just three things: Getting out of prison, revenge on those who put him in prison, and Maria. And whenever he thought of Maria he thought of getting out.
The guard walked up to his door and unlocked it. “You got a new celly, Marshall.” The new man struggled into the small cell carrying a mattress, pillow, linen, and an envelope full of papers. Marshall got up and helped him get the mattress on the top bunk.
“Thanks, guy. I’m Eddie Donevant,” he said and stuck out his hand.
“Mike Marshall,” he replied, shaking his hand. “Where’re you from?”
“Over in Galveston County. And you?”
“San Antonio. They kept you close to home.”
“Looks like this is going to be my home for a while. Maybe a long w hile.”
“Oh, yea. How much time d’ya get?”
“Fifteen aggravated. I’ll be here five or six years, unless the Appeals Court gives me another t rial.”
“Well, this is the easiest place to do time. Generally, the guards leave you alone, ‘cause they’re stupid. A few inmates may try to fuck with you, but generally they leave us alone, too.”
“Are we spe cial?”
“This is Cell Block Ten. The people here are former law enforcement officers. A few were other government officials or have relatives who were lawmen, and a couple are too young to be in popula tion.”
“You?”
Marshall gave him a grin. “I was a federal narcotics agent, until I killed a city councilman’s kid on a deal.”
“The kid a rmed?”
“When I shot him. But when daddy showed up the gun disappeared and my local police backup couldn’t seem to remember a gun in the kid’s hand. That was their testimony at t rial.”
“What did that leave you with?”
“Twenty aggrav ated.”
Eddie made a face.
“How about you? Lawyer on the take?”
Eddie gave Marshall a little grin. “Attempted murder. Drug dealer said I shot him.”
“You don’t look like the shooter type.”
“I’m not. But the word of a paid-up drug dealer carried more weight than a police sergeant. Even one with a law de gree.”
“So, what good did your law degree do you?”
“It’s going to get my case turned around, my badge back, and convictions on the dirt bags that put me here.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it wired,” Marshall told him, but he thought to himself, This guy is just dreaming. The law doesn’t work. Only guns work to correct past wrongs. He went back to thinking about Maria and how he would get out and get his revenge. In the meantime, he would have to live with this idea list.
Galve ston
March 1984
Several men turned to look as the woman walked across the hotel lobby, her long hair bouncing as she walked. Her big blue eyes and clear complexion made her look younger than her thirty-two years. She walked directly to the dining room without looking ar ound.
The hostess greeted her with a pleasant smile. “Good evening. Do you wish a smoking or nonsmoking sec tion?”
“I’m Elaine Donevant. I have reservations for a business dinner in the Aquarro Room.”
“Oh, of course. The gentlemen are wai ting.”
The four men stood when she walked into the room. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said with a bright smile, taking her seat at the table. They all sat down, smiling, unconcerned about her late arr ival.
She looked around the table. “I really appreciate you meeting me here. You know who I am, but just so we can get acquainted with each other could I ask you each to introduce himself and tell the others a little of your work background and how you’re associated with E ddie?”
The blond haired man smiled and said, “Well, I guess I’ll start. I’m Martin Malone. Eddie attended church where I was associate pastor and we went to law school